The Grains of Sand Hold the True Destinies
by the-lionness
Summary: The Boy. The Shinigami. The destiny that never was, and AU one-shots of what they may have become. Because IchiRuki, Bleach, and we the readers deserved better. - T/M Ratings - new chapter: "Black Sun & White Moon (The Shakespearian Tragedy)"
1. Chapter 686 B-side: The Pyrrhic Victory

**Pyrrhic victory.** _noun._ A victory that inflicts such a devastating toll on the victor that it is tantamount to defeat. Someone who wins a Pyrrhic victory has been victorious in some way; however, the heavy toll negates any sense of achievement or profit.

* * *

 **Chapter 686: Death & Strawberry**

 **(B-Side: The Pyrrhic Victory)**

* * *

He heard the grunt of exhaustion burst from his throat and felt spittle against his lips as he sunk his sword deeper. His teeth bared and his hackles showed. Zangetsu, as rabid as he himself felt, cut through to the other side of his enemy and freed itself from the black, gurgling mass. The sword rung with finality, and time stopped.

The shattered mess under his feet, Seriteri, came back to view in lieu of the rolling darkness of his attack.

The Almighty sloughed itself off its host and spilled unto the white concrete ground, black on white. The eyes began to bubble and roll back. Dead.

And Yhwach coughed thick blackness from his mouth and over his white uniform. Dying.

The odds had tipped in his favor and his heart jumped with that feeling of levity in his chest.

He had won.

He had _won_.

…So why was it, when Yhwach's lower body began to evaporate and more of the dark liquid that had to be blood flowed out his mouth, he heard laughter? And why did the laughs grow louder when he again twisted his blade in his enemy?

His brow furrowed and his teeth grit, seething hatred. Something flew past his eye and he blinked wildly. "What's…so funny?"

 _"You are."_ Yhwach laughed and coughed and bled. "Because of all your efforts here. Can you—" his mirth quickly became the sounds of life ending, "see it, Ichigo?" He panted, "…The sand?"

He was still blinking, but for a moment, he took his gaze away from his rival and stared at the ground. Underneath his blade and the soles of his sandals, like spilled rice still in their husks, were grains of black sand.

The—what had he called them? The "pieces of the future?"

 _"…Yes…"_ His enemy gurgled in satisfaction, _" there it is…"_

They rose from the ground and floated into the air. They gathered and thickened; he squinted his eyes to slits for protection from them and gripped his katana's hilt all the more tightly. He couldn't be distracted; Yhwach's face was barely detectable.

If only his voice had been the same. "Can you, not, _see_ _it?_ "

"See…" his jaw clenched and sweat dripped down his brow and his eyelids fluttered, "see… _what?"_

"The future I missed. The last future that existed where you defeated me…and had the outcome you wanted.

"I looked into all the futures, all these bits of sand. I saw…the paths where you only defeated me like this; and I saw events of things you want…to happen only come true when you placed your sword down and joined me. …In this one grain, you had both. You had your victory…and your Shinigami."

 _Rukia._ He was talking about him and Rukia.

 _"Can you, not, see it_ … _Ichigo?!_ "

He could now in the black haze. Admist all that darkness was a single golden grain of sand, and it hung in the air mere inches from his face. It twinkled before his eyes…and the future unfolded before him.

The layout of his living room was becoming very clear. And then there he was: eighteen with a duffle bag at his feet and surrounded by his family and friends. He was saying goodbye for the last time…

 _Nine months since the last sighting of Yhwach and The Almighty had passed by in a blur. Of those months, six had been spent with him tired, bloodied and bruised, and capable of only lying on his back on a cot in the Fourth Division as squares of sunlight moved from the left of the hospital room to the right, east to west._ _He had grimaced from the pain that came from trying to flex his fingers and wiggle his toes and lift his arms for six months. For six months, he had thought of this last battle and of that feeling of victory. And the battles that had come before: his sweat and blood and tears; the precipice he had toed the edge of time and time again._

 _And when it was dark at night, he thought of the time when none of those moments existed. When he was just Human and just living: eighteen months of feeling dark and incomplete until the blade of a blazing white sword had pierced his heart._

 _By the time he was well, he had made the decision to stay in Seriteri and be where he felt his purpose the most._

 _"I guess this means that I'm finally smarter than you, eh, Ichigo?" Keigo said. He was still chewing the sandwich point he had stuffed into his mouth not three seconds before. "Who would've," he swallowed audibly without water, "thought I would have made it into college?!"_

 _Although he couldn't understand why the shorter, brown-haired boy felt some sort of pride in admitting he was dumb, he let it slide. "I guess. But, it also means that after getting ready for the entrance exams, you're probably not that good at being a delinquent anymore." He watched as t_ _he proud look on the other boy's face slowly became blank and then thunderstruck. "And anyway," he rushed through before the tears and dramatics came, "they have an academy over there, too. I'll still probably have to be a student."_

 _"Wait. They'd actually make you go to school there?!" Tatsuki asked. "After all of that?! You saved the world!"_

 _"Yeah, well, that's how they do things over there."_

 _"I'm sure you'll be great at the Academy, Kurosaki-kun," Inoue said. She and Tatsuki were wearing shirts from their own respective colleges, and he had heard from the latter that they were both leaving in the next couple of days._

 _"Hmm," the tomboy said. "Well_ _—_ _if what Kuchiki-san said was true about you always leveling buildings every time you fight somebody, you probably do need to go to school. That has to be expensive."_

 _"Shut up."_

 _The conversation was over, and Ichigo's eyes scanned his living room at his friends and family gathered in clusters: Yuzu in the kitchen with more platters of food and fruit and liters of soda; Mizuno and Karin sitting on the couch, the former's hands sliding over his iPhone screen in total concentration, and the latter just watching everyone quietly. Big brother and little sister's eyes met and a small smile flitted on her face. Her reiatsu emitted in amber-yellow waves. Tatsuki and Inoue, spending time together before school separated them for the next few months… His thoughts wandered over to Chad and Ishida: the former was likely on the last leg of his journey to Mexico, and the latter's trek to the mountains of the Quincy had just begun. He even thought of Urahara settling into the office of the Thirteenth Squad as its interim captain._

 _And then there was Rukia._

 _She was standing on the other side of the room and talking with his dad._

 _Her violet eyes found his and he saw the smile on her face._ _That soft look held for about two seconds, and then in a flash, her expression became smug._

 _His attention was piqued now because he knew that look well: his dad was talking shit, and she was gathering up ammo for later on._

 _He almost moved right then and there to break up the conversation, but then realized he didn't have to;_ _there was no way his old man could speak quietly. The dumbass._

 _"We both know that my son is a complete dumbass," Isshin said with a sly smile towards him, "but I know you'll be able to keep him in check, Rukia-chan."_

 _She made a carefree gesture and her bob swept over the shoulders of her uniform. This time when she looked over at him, she smirked and her eyebrow rose. Teasing him. "Of course. You can count on me."_

 _"I know I can. He's okay with a sword, so there's not much he can do to mess this up; and if Kyoraku's smart, he'll make him a captain for sure. And," Isshin's voice rose suddenly, "when once he does make captain, he'll make you my third daughter once and for all!"_

 _Absolute silence blanketed the room._

 _"You couldn't give it a rest for one day, could you?!" Karin shook her head, annoyed about what was going to happen—what they all knew was going to happen. _

_A silent, blushing Rukia and everyone else moved to the side as Ichigo made his running start across the room. He jumped the last six feet and extended his leg in a flying kick that made solid contact against the side of his old man's face._

 _Isshin crashed into the wall behind him, the imprint of Ichigo's sneaker sole on his jaw._

 _"Ah!" Inoue said. "Kurosaki-kun, Kuchiki-san! Look outside!"_

 _They all looked over to see the black butterfly fluttering outside the Kurosaki Family Clinic's sliding glass doors, waiting patiently._

 _It was time to go._

 _Rukia walked towards him, all jokes put aside for now. "Ready, Ichigo?"_

 _He sighed and straightened up. "Yeah." He picked up his things and looked around the room once more at their smiling, but melancholy faces…and at the picture on the wall of his mother. He felt his lips curve upward to match hers…_

 _He gripped his bag and righted himself. "Everybody…do your best."_

Five years from that: _He was a graduate of the Shinigami Academy, a seated officer of the Seventh Division_ _…a_ _nd a bridegroom. On this day, he was standing at the altar with the sound of biwas and kotos wafting in the air. Despite the music, the nervous beating of his heart was about the only thing he could hear in his ears as he waited for the woman who was to be his wife to come. His palms and armpits were sweaty._

 _Anytime now._

 _"Ah," Kyoraku, acting as officiator of the ceremony, murmured beside him. "There she is." A smile slowly grew on his face._

 _He saw the large red umbrella from across the distance of the Kuchiki Family Garden._

 _T_ _he captain-commander's arms rose to signal silence. A hush settled among the mix of their colorful guests, except for his dad,_ _who had been looking especially giddy all morning. True to form, he raised his phone in the air and the sound of its shutter clicking was more than a little audible._

 _They turned down the pathway, and then there was Byakuya. The same as he always was: stoic, aristocratic, and stern_ _—_ _only for this day, he had traded his captain's haori for a rich blue robe._

 _And there she was. Dressed in her white kimono, its hem draped over her left hand and the right clasped in her brother's. Her lips were a pretty shade of red, her cheeks a shade of soft pink. That one strand of hair on her forehead had freed itself from underneath her tsunokakushi._

 _He was reminded of when he had saved her; he was reminded of the first time he had seen her bankai and its white robe; he was reminded of the fact that she looked beautiful dressed in white._

 _Everything different about his life now—his changed world, of his purpose as a Shinigami of the Gotei 13—all came back to her. And the things he thought whenever he saw her—the moon; pure white snow; and the clear, sunny skies in his inner world—were indications that he loved her._

 _Thank goodness he had finally realized it—that he had finally admitted it. That Renji and Matsumomo and even Zangetsu…everyone…had helped him see it. It had taken so long from him to realize that there was a reason why the way he felt about her wasn't like how he felt about every other woman in his life. That it was deeper, that it burned brighter, and the mere thought of it changed the taste in his mouth. In the five years he had spent in Seriteri—beyond these five years, back on that night when he was really just a brat who had been only hours away from the encounter that would change everything—he had finally realized what it meant when he saw her and the rest of the world faded to white._

 _He really loved her._

 _She was his favorite sparring partner, both verbal and non-verbal; the one that he liked to watch fight and train with the most during their sessions when sweat ran down her body in the sun, and flakes of ice from her attacks landed on his face._

 _She was his mentor, favorite tutor, and the reason he had graduated so quickly. He didn't miss those tests and essays and those nights spent in his barracks, and soon he wouldn't have to just remember those times she slept in the chair beside him in blissful peace, exhausted from her own preparations to become captain._

 _She was his favorite person to be alone with, the person he wanted to be alone with the most. She was the girl he wanted to kiss forever. He wanted to always hear her breath hitch in surprise when he came close and pressed his lips to hers. Her fingers were the only ones he wanted to feel desperately tugging at his clothes, frustrated to get them off his body. She was still able to bring peaches to mind whenever his palms slid down and squeezed her bare butt._

 _And after today, he would have all of those things. And the things she had said to Byakuya and those elders when they had announced their plans to be married—that he was the sun to her, the one that truly knew her, and a man with an unchanging heart—he was ready to be all those things. _

_The Kuchiki siblings neared the altar and his soon-to-be brother-in-law stared at him for exactly ten seconds with unspoken threats in his eyes before extending her hand towards his._

 _His heart climbed into his throat and then melted back into his chest as he felt Rukia's smaller, delicate hand in his larger, calloused one._

 _"Friends," Kyoraku said, "let's begin."_

And then 50 more years from that.

 _They were holding hands again—or rather, she was digging her nails into his skin. As tiny as her hand actually was, she had a death grip on him, one he couldn't do a single thing about. _

_He stared at her and tried to forget about the pain. They had been at this for almost an entire day now and they had come to the last stretch of this journey to end all journeys. Her lips were puckered into an "O," and her breathing a forced staccato that puffed and deflated her cheeks. Sweat poured down her face, and the yells and grunts and whines that came from the back of her throat were strained._

 _He, just as sweaty and tired and pained at her cries and her hand, could only imagine how much worse than death childbirth could be._

 _"Okay! The head is beginning to crown!" Isane's voice said through her surgical mask. Rukia's fellow captain was between her opened legs, and for the first time in all those previous months of appointments and LaMaze classes, her voice rang with the confidence that came with her position._

 _He turned his head for one second and craned his neck. Maybe he could see something?_

 _"Push…push…PUSH! ALMOST THERE!"_

 _"Ichigo!" Rukia grunted. Her jaw clenched and temples bulged. "AH!" Her right leg flared in the air, another spasm of pain. "ICHIGO!"_

 _"It's okay," he murmured. His lips pressed against her forehead as she gasped in pain. "It's okay…just a little more…just a little more…"_

 _He was going to be a dad, and Rukia was going to be the mother of his child— their child. The extra room back at home was finally going to be occupied with their new addition to the family. The baby clothes and blankets and shoes and the rocket chairs they had collected were finally going to be put to use; he was going to have to live up to his promise to learn to be okay with Chappy plushies being in every corner of their home._

 _Had it really been a full nine months from when she, in the wake of another night of lovemaking and orgasms and warm towels wiping sweat and his fingers in her long, dark hair and her fingers swirling the hairs under his chin, told him she was pregnant? Had it really been six months since that secret stopped being a secret and they were both inundated with congratulations and inquires and appointments with the Kuchiki Elders? And all those moments of morning sickness and trips to the marketplace for strawberries and favors asked of his subordinates visiting the Human World to buy a pint of ice cream at Urahara's—those moments were almost done? Had all his conversations with Zangetsu for advice and those long walks at night where he thought about the change in his never-ending future really happened?_

 _Yes._

 _They had had so many fears. She, who had never experienced the love of a parent she could remember, worried over being a mother. Worried about if she could live up to that standard, that title. If she embodied the things she needed to be a mother. And he, who had lost his mother (and cringed at the thought of becoming an idiot like his dad), worried about this true test of protecting this new little life, this person they had come to know and love without having met yet._

 _Until now._

 _The words he was repeating—"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou"—ended in the moments when Rukia's final yell gave way and she fell to the bed, exhausted._

 _…_ _A high-pitched, world-changing cry pierced the air._

 _Ichigo felt his heart stop._

 _"Congratulations, Kurosaki-san, Rukia-chan! It's a girl!"_

 _A girl. A girl. He realized in that very moment he had really, really wanted a girl. Now that she was here, he reveled in the joy he felt at it coming true_ _…_ _"Rukia…"_

 _In the moments when their baby was carried away to be cleaned and swaddled, Rukia looked into his eyes and the most beautiful smile crossed her face. "Yeah," she said, understanding._

 _A girl._

 _"Here, she, is~!" Isane sang, holding a bundle of pale-yellow cloth no longer than a loaf of bread. "Six pounds, 50.8 centimeters. Her heart rate and reiatsu levels are normal; her breathing is fine. And all fingers and toes are there…! She is the picture of health, but I thought it would be best to let you see her before I talk about hair and eye color." _

_The bundle was passed into his wife's arms and he was almost face-to-face with_ _the most beautiful baby he had ever seen. Already he could see that she took after her mother: her long, black eyelashes; her pursed lips; the slight pink of her round cheeks._

 _But the wisps of hair that peeked under her cap_ _…_

 _"Purple eyes, just like her mommy. And her hair is brown, of course. Just like Daddy's."_

 _Mommy. Rukia wore that title so fast, so quickly. She was already quieting the cries that came from that tiny mouth. "It's okay," she said softly, rocking the bundle gently. "It's okay."_

 _And it was okay. Their baby stilled and her little mouth yawned before quieting to sleep. Her nostrils flared quickly, inhaling the air._

 _"Here, you take her."_

 _He reached out for her, and in seconds, his daughter was cradled in his own arms. She felt almost weightless, and he felt his heart soar._

 _"Now to the name," Isane said._

 _The name. He stared at her, at the wisps of hair and the way they curled on her forehead. That color, that brightness. They reminded him of the sun, of a halo; he was reminded of—_

 _"Masaki." Rukia murmured before he could even open his mouth and say it himself. Her felt her fingers against his cheek and for the first time, realized he was crying. "Her name is 'Kurosaki Masaki,' Isane-chan."_

 _"O~ kay!" the pen in their Fourth Division captain's hands made the necessary note. "Perfect!"_

 _Perfect._

Decade after decade. Century after century of his life together with Rukia until—

 _"Will the new captain please enter!" Nanao's voice boomed. "Captain of Squad One: Captain-Commander Kurosaki Ichigo."_

 _He emerged from the other side of the room and stared where the relieved captain-commander and his fukutaichos stood. His haori and his shoulder armor were heavy on his shoulders; his footsteps across the hardwood floor were measured and unhurried. Long ago the impulse to rush through things in his life had gone away, but had he been allowed to on this day, he would have ran like the brash teenager he once was._

 _It was finally happening. That was what he had told himself that morning when looked in the mirror and saw the picture of a man 45 years old—broad chested like his old man, full beard and head of orange-brown hair now streaked with gray and turning silver at the temples_ _—looking back at him_ _._

 _After 300 years, he was finally becoming a captain._

 _His eyes flitted up and looked into the faces of his fellow captains…_

 _His wife, her long hair tinted purple and molded in her shimada mage with the hair comb he had given her on their 125th anniversary in her bun, was always beautiful, but most especially on this day. He kept his eyes on her short form and her beautiful face. In more than three centuries, he realized there were moments when his eyes were saying the things he couldn't voice. He was doing it now, willing her wide eyes to open to look at him._

 _They did, deep and glittering amethyst._

 _Then came that feeling, that same feeling from when she had pierced his heart the first time, from when he had stood in the sky and told her he was saving her, from when he saw her smile again after all their hardships, from when she had stood outside his classroom window, from the second time she had stabbed him and brought him to life again._

 _"Thank you." He murmured under his breath._

 _She smiled._

…Those years and milestones began to fade away…

The grain of sand turned black and then mixed with the others. Lost.

He hadn't realized he was crying until he felt the tears run down his cheeks and tasted wet salt against his lips. His eyes closed for a moment, and he swore he felt her hand pressing against his cheeks, wiping his sadness away.

 _"Ah."_

Yhwach, too, was disappearing, but his head remained. He smiled, his perfectly-aligned teeth all the more grotesque. "So _that_ was what it would have taken. Had I known _that_ future was what that grain held," he panted, "and had I known that it was the one future that could test your… _selflessness_ …your _blind willingness_ to protect this way of life and death… I would have offered it to you. I would have promised it just for you. And I would've watched you place down your sword and _accept it_. _Wholeheartedly._

"But now the path has closed, Ichigo.

"You will move forward from this moment in time. The life you lead may hold…moments of contentment, but even in those times of joy…you'll know deep down that what you have wasn't what you would have ever wanted. And you'll think about how badly you would take another chance if ever it was presented to you."

He laughed. "Enjoy this path of life you created for yourself. And may you find whatever scraps of happiness you can muster."

He gave one final smile.

And then Yhwach was gone.

Only he remained, victorious, with grains of black sand pressing against his palms and his spilled tears falling to the ground.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** There's no need for me to say why I wrote this. After the years of watching __Bleach_ _every week in college, reading the manga from the beginning, and seeing my OTP be built and develop—only for it to be crushed._

 _(siiiigggghhhh)_

 _I'm inspired to write more of these. It's been some time since I wrote some_ _Bleach_ _and honestly I've wanted to do it for a while. In the face of Chapter 686 however, there is a desire to completely switch gears, deviate from Ichigo and Yhwach's final encounter, and go full hog—and I'll be on that kick for a while as I re-read the earlier volumes. But, I wanted to get this one out first—I needed to get the feels out. And I had to make the IchiRuki Baby That Will Never Be (who had always been a boy to me, but I suddenly liked more as a girl about two days ago).  
_


	2. The Grains of Sand

_The Grains of Sand Now Keep the True Destinies_

 _crushed through the cog-wheels of_

 _the now forever-ticking Clock,_

 _there lay_

 _all other Endings unknown_

 _There is no worry in the shift and scattering of these_

 _infinite futures, these_

 _grains of Sand._

 _The Bond shared by the Black Sun and White Moon is_

 _Unbreakable._


	3. The Boy & The Shinigami, version 1

**The Boy & The Shinigami, version 1.1**

 **(Memories In The Rain, The Final Reprisal)**

* * *

It was the last hour before midnight.

Rukia quietly made her way through the dimly lit corridors. Her reiastu was low enough as not to be detected, and the silence in her footsteps reminded her that she was traveling without her haori and sword. Truth be told: she relished the feeling of the cool summer night and the tips of her long hair on her bare arms.

Moonlight poured through the windowless arches and pooled unto along the marble floors in white semicircles. There was a ring of light around the orb, this season's promise of rain.

Being so high up made the disks below the Great Soul Palace look like flat sake cups arranged in an arching row. With each walk up the flight of stairs, she gazed at the white stone rooftops of the shops and houses from the corner of her eye. Everything looked blank and peaceful. Orihime, Renji, and even the soldiers she had chosen to escort her on this shift…everyone on this plane of existence she had learned to call home was where he or she was supposed to be at this hour.

It was just her alone on this walk through the halls with her package in hand.

Her socked feet and the hem of her robes touched the flight of stairs leading to the palace's second-highest floor. She was almost at her destination, and the paintings along the walls, the migrating pride of golden lions along mountaintops, seemed to vie for the chance to accompany the last leg of her trip. Childishly, her hand pressed against the surface closest to her and traced over the lines of accented gold leaf.

The two large doors loomed before her at the stairs' landing. There was a gap between them and the light from the other side peeked through, halving her beautiful face perfectly.

Rukia paused for a second and with eyes closed, spiked her reiatsu—just enough to soundlessly announce her arrival: _I'm here_.

And somehow like always, energy rose from the other side of the doors, slipped through the doors' gap, and touched her face. In over 83 years, it never failed to remind her of heat and fire rising from the sun.

 _Come in._

She did.

The private quarters were elegant yet bare as always: gold trim around the concave walls; marble floors underfoot; low-hanging lights made of amber and bronze. Her violet eyes trailed their way to the center of the room where the sheer curtains hung at their full height like waterfalls.

There was Ichigo. Embalmed in his cocoon and tethered just inches from the ground, his reiatsu was flaring and swirling and burning about him. For the most part, his physical changes over time had been few: he was not the teenager she had first met so long ago, but a young man with few wispy hairs on his chin. His frame was still that of a fighter—all corded muscle and flat planes and scars—and the Shinigami uniform he had asked to be dressed in remained preserved. Zangetsu was his lone companion in that space and his grips around its hilts were still tight.

Even after all this time, he still stood like he was in a moment of introspection before battle. She expected that at any minute, he would step into "the outside world," and blaze a trail with the blades of his sword to save the day.

For the sake of whichever world called out to him.

For the sake of the mountain of people he was capable of saving in that world.

And, if she needed him, for her.

She walked closer to him and he began to awaken like he always did: his lungs filled with a quick, unneeded inhalation of air; and his reiatsu receded to a low flame. And he moved slowly, kneeling in his confined space to bring them to about the same height.

All these things made him look so… _human_ … Like the way she always remembered him…

But then his eyes opened, and she was reminded of why that wasn't entirely right.

His corneas were black now: black like night; black like space; black like the hours before dawn. All that remained of the honey-brown eyes that had looked at her in varying shades of annoyance and mirth and softness and gratefulness during the last two years of his human life was a rectangle—and she could tell even _that_ was changing.

But he saw the package in her hands and little by little, a smile crossed his face.

There were just a little less than fifty minutes left...

 _"A Soul King is_ _needed._ _" Those had been Hyosube-san's words from the time before. When she still called him "Hyosube-taicho." The destruction from Yhwach's attack and the wounds left on the face of Serteri at the end of the Bloody War were still fresh. Gaping. "A Soul King_ _must_ _exist—otherwise, what we have right now will end—no if, and, or buts about it. A decision must be made."_

 _"And, you are certain that what you are proposing is possible?" One of the delegates asked of the Royal Guard captain._

 _" Yes_ _—it is very possible for us all to make a new Soul King." He almost laughed at such a question. "How did you think we came by the last one?"_

 _It could not—could_ _not_ _—have been Aizen. The nameless people behind Central 46's screens would not allow it. No matter how badly he still wanted it; never mind if he had simply returned to his chair when it was all said and done, dashing his chances of performing a coup and finally placing himself on the throne; and regardless of how willingly he used his near-infinite power to keep the Soul Palace from falling on all their heads._

 _Their decision had been immediate and unanimous: No._

 _She had never wondered if anyone else had been considered…Urahara…Kyoraku-taicho…_

 _But, in lieu of Aizen, all eyes had suddenly turned to Ichigo._

 _It should have not been so surprising when that happened. Ichigo had saved everyone from the power of The Almighty at nearly the cost of his own life. Ichigo, the embodiment of everything that existed: a Human with Quincy blood, a Shinigami with power greater than even Zaraki-taicho's or—scarily still, Kyoraku-taicho's. He had even conquered the Hollow that once scared him and contained it into a sword. And he had been victorious against Yhwach._

 _He had been the savior of them all—of everything._

 _But maybe it was because she remembered that he was human. It was his bloodied, exhausted body that Renji scraped up from the ground when it was all said and done. And that Ichigo had lied on his back Fourth Division hospital room unable to move, read the books she left behind, or even turn his head to look at her during her daily visits for months. All through that time she had wondered what the future held for him…_

 _All that wondering and worrying came to a head when she came to his room one afternoon had found his hospital bed empty. And she had been irate when Renji, who was sitting there alone, told her that Ichigo had been wheeled off to where Central 46 was currently convened. She thought about the rumor she had heard that very morning, the one that had made her leave her stack of paperwork behind and sent her running in the direction of the Fourth Division._

 _"There's nowhere else for him to go…" Renji had said to her. "You know that, I know that; and even though he wasn't saying it, he knew it."_

 _A Hell Butterfly fluttered through the open window before she could find the words to form a comeback._

 _And in the end, he had been right: "…I always thought I was only capable of saving a mountain of people…" Ichigo's words sounded solemn. And even though he had barely turned eighteen, so much older. So human in lieu of what he was being asked to do._

 _"But, if you think I can do more. If I_ _can_ _do more…then I accept."_

The message offering her a position as a leader of the newly-reformed Royal Guard—with the entitlement of captain, her own division and subordinates, and a city in the sky—came a few days later. Ichigo had already left with Ichibe-san by then, undergoing the rites of becoming The Soul King…and she was going about her life as best she could knowing he was gone forever. She was still haunted by memories of their goodbye.

 _"It is a great honor," Nii-sama had said during dinner that night, "to be seen as capable of protecting The Soul King. It is an honor that no other Kuchiki has yet to receive… You should feel proud, Rukia." His blue eyes looked off to the side, words suddenly failing him. "We…" he began after some moments, "are all indebted to Kurosaki Ichigo. It is far more than words can express._

 _"I will not tell you how to choose, and I shall miss you if you decide to go. But…if it is my blessing you wish for, I shall provide it for you."_

It had only been a few days since the last time her tears had soaked her pillow, but she had cried hard that night—and had accepted the offer awarded to her in the light of day. She still remembered breathing a sigh of relief when she had learned who else had agreed to share this responsibility of protecting the new Soul King: Renji, who had been given the same offer as her; Sado-san, who would only tell her of the pact made between he and Ichigo decades after their new life had begun; and oddly, at the last second, Orihime. She still remembered Orihime running towards all of them and yelling not to be left behind.

This was where they had all remained for almost a century. All of them.

And him and her.

Him: in a bare room. Caught between absolute indifference and absolute involvement, and existing for the sake of maintaining the balance and the lives that she, once upon a time when he was young and a total brat, had taught him to protect indiscriminately.

Her: living in a city held up by a disk in the sky. Training and learning. Watching over him like she had always done before. Waiting for the day when her sword would cut into whomever it was that disturbed the balance he upheld, as was her duty…as what she _wanted_ to do. And sneaking from her private quarters into his every time it was her turn to keep vigil, without fail.

And Them: staring at one another in the quietness of night. Being with one another—despite of what he was now, and who she had remained. Much, much deeper than friends. And yet, with no hopes of ever again being lovers.

…There were fifteen minutes left…

The last time they were together, he had turned to her and asked, _"If I asked for you to come to The Soul Palace with me…would you?"_

 _A gust of wind blew against them in that moment and carried the smell of rain._ _They had been walking, en route from the Kuchiki Estate to his temporary quarters. They had walked very close to one another and very slowly that night; their hands kept ghosting over each other's._

Had her heart skipped a beat? _"…Why? Do you want me to come with you?" Her head shook as if to erase the question for a better one: "Would you_ _fix_ _it somehow for me to be there?"_

 _"No!" And then more firmly, " No. If I did that, you'd find out somehow, and then you would get mad and then try to punch me in the face."_

 _"I wouldn't do that."_

 _"Yes, you would." He gave her a look and then smiled._

 _"Whatever." The walkway they had been on tapered off into cracked pieces of concrete and then dirt road. She felt a drop of rain on her shoulder as her eyes followed his gaze. The dark sky hid the last bits of sunset and the lights outside barrack entryways were turning on, the color of blue fire. "…Are you scared about it? About what you'll become?"_ _She wondered if she was the only person who had asked him that._

 _Another raindrop. And then three more, right in front of where they were walking._

 _Their footsteps continued, the dusty road making their socks dirty. "Yeah. I…saw The Soul King right before I… And he was weird: he looked human. That's what I've kinda been thinking about: he looked human, but he wasn't. He wasn't really anything anymore. And I guess me being asked means I'm kinda like him now. I'm not human anymore, and in the middle of all of this, I learned I haven't always been just a Shinigami either…"_

 _He fell silent._

 _"…Even if you haven't been one thing, you're still Ichigo. At least… I've always seen you that way. Whatever you will become now, there's nothing to be afraid of." She stared into his eyes. "If I ever saw you again after you became different, I'd know that you're You."_

 _His eyebrows rose and his eyes widened, but that look of surprise turned into another contented smile. "Thanks."_

 _Her eyes lifted to look at him. The drizzle was making his tangerine hair lie flat on his forehead. He looked different already._

 _Another gust of wind came and then they were in caught in the full force of the rainfall._

 _They ran to his barrack. Her hand pressed against the door and then her back did as she spun to face him. They were barely inches apart. His face and robes were soaked. He was so close to her and his body was so warm against her; it made her heart beat quickly. She thought of herself as one of the moths that were still flying around the light above head, the lucky one that was able to rest in the warmth of that light and heat._

 _"…If you don't end up ever coming to see me, will you do something for me…?"_

 _She looked up at him._

Midnight.

July 15.

She reached into the bag and pulled out the first item, a party popper. And then the second and third items: a bottle of plum wine and a wine glass. And then her final _piece de resistance_ , his birthday card. She had done a pretty good job with it this year…

 _"Okay." He had voiced his request, and she had choked on her word of acquiescence at the sheer volume of what he had asked of her. "I will," she nodded._

 _And then her hands were wiping at her eyes. She had confused the first of her tears with rainfall._

 _"Don't cry."_

 _Her knowing that those two words would be the last thing she ever heard him say made her cry a little harder. "It's not like I want to." Deep down, she realized that she just wanted both of them, the weather and her sadness, to stop flowing._

 _"So don't." His fingers ran over her cheeks, drying her tears. And then hesitated. And then she felt him kiss her, his arms around her waist. She inhaled and caught the smell of his wet hair. And she felt herself kiss him back under the rain._

 _He felt warm: like the sun, like fire._

 _They parted long enough for him to find the keys to the space. The two of them, standing in their wet clothing, made a puddle on the floor. They took off their clothes with urgency to keep from catching colds. But they never stopped touching one another. Her hands ran over his bare skin and her lips followed, and his fingers and mouth did the same. They walked towards his bed, and explored one another more. Every inch of her body had relished in the glory of his warmth that night as the rain fell_ _…_

Their time alone would be fleeting, just like it had been that last night. Eventually, she would make her way back to her own room on the lower level of the palace. The day would begin and progress, and the others would leave their own divisions and make their way to the palace and this room as well. The celebration would be in Ichigo's honor. The servers would break down the walls of his room and set up a table and chairs for food. And they would tell each other stories, reminisce about times past and their lives both individually and together, and sing "Happy Birthday" in drunken happiness in the wee hours.

She hoped that the rain wouldn't come until later. When everyone else was gone, and it was just them again.

Her hand pressed against the amber surface of his bubble now, right where her hand would have caressed his cheek. The other pressed where his chest was, her fingers curling against the surface.

He tilted his head back to face her, and his reiatsu flared once more. He felt warm to the touch, as warm as he had that one rainy night.

"Happy Birthday, Ichigo," she whispered.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _I had thought that in the end, Ichigo was to going to somehow be The Soul King. It just seemed logical given Ichigo's continued progression of power and the forms it kept taking. Maybe it was me, but if Kubo had had another 10 years, I feel certain that Ichigo would have been the new Soul King. I dunno—The Strawberry just being a captain seemed too ordinary. In any case, I wrote this going off that idea and thinking about Rukia's place in that future. I tried to make myself happy with the idea of them still being friends, but I couldn't (because they couldn't be because they were meant for each other and to ask me to just accept IchiHime is not happening)._

 _Writing this, I realized there was so little we knew about The Soul King and how he became "The Soul King." Like: was he always The Soul King or made into The Soul King, and if he was made into The Soul King, was Yhwach born before that? Why did his limbs gain sentience and independence? Was there a reason why he was in that bubble? And why was the bubble so big? And then there came the fact that Aizen had wanted to become The Soul King: Was that possible? To create one if something happened to the last one? _

_Ugh, frustrating…so, I had to go by what was in the manga, which makes for bittersweet writing._


	4. The Boy & The Shinigami, version 2

**Death & Strawberry version 1.2**

* * *

The moon and the stars were Rukia's companions through her walk down the dimly lit corridors.

It was late in the night; moonlight poured through the windowless arches and pooled unto along the marble floors in white semicircles. The cold from her visit down below had thankfully left her bones. The flat sake cups outside—her name for the adjacent divisions and barracks arranged in an arching row before the palace—stood silent. The white stone rooftops of her division looked blank and peaceful from afar.

Thoughts about how soon she would be returning to it made a sigh leave her lips.

The hems of her haori sleeves flapped against her hakama, and her sheathed zanpakto bounced against her leg and punctuated her every footstep in the walk up the last flight of stairs. The paintings along the walls on her either side, the migrating pride of golden lions along mountaintops, seemed to greet her like always. Her fingertips pressed against their surface and felt the gold leaf accents under her touch.

It was quiet; everyone else was where he or she was supposed to be.

And she had just arrived to her own destination.

Light from where the two doors failed to fully meet made a line down the center of her face, halving her features perfectly. Eyes closed, Rukia spiked her reiatsu just high enough to announce her arrival: _I'm here_.

And like it had every night during her stay, the energy from the other side flared and then receded in response: _Come in._

She did: through the foyer, through the sitting room; the dining room; and through the door that opened into the last room, the bedroom. It was ornate like every other room in the Greater Soul Palace: gold trim around the concave walls; ornate carpets underfoot; beautifully-crafted furniture and low-hanging lights made of amber and bronze.

There was the bed.

And there, on the bed, sat Ichigo. The yukata he wore had been tied very loosely, and she drank in the sight of his skin showing through the gap of the material. His chest, his stomach, his thigh. He looked beautiful: the body of a fighter—all corded muscle and battle scars and keloid patches of skin. His hair took on the color of a tangerine in the lamplight.

He was silent for all of ten seconds. And then he sighed really loudly, as if annoyed by the sound of nothing. "You took really long."

She paused. "Well, it takes a long time to check everything. …You could have gone down with me, but you didn't."

"That's because I didn't think you would move so _slow_." He said, smirking, because he seemed to have the upper-hand in this verbal sparring match, and because, above all, he was joking.

Still, she began to remove her haori and and katana slowly, deliberately, with her eyebrow raised. A challenge. If he was going to try and tease her, then she was going take her time with this. Daylight would come and she would be back at her division; and he would have to wait another four months to see her like this.

He sobered, realizing the error he was making. "…But everything was okay down there?" There came the seriousness in his eyes when he asked, his duty always fresh on his mind.

She nodded, folding her coat. "Nothing's changed."

"Ok. So, will you come here— _please?_ "

"Well, if you're going to beg…" Silently, she walked over to him. He rose from his seat. And there they were, face-to-face and mere steps apart. In his room, her month-long shift just finished, and a few blissful hours left to spend together _alone_.

They already knew where this was going.

His hand pressed against her cheek. Her hand pressed against his chest, fingers curling against his skin, his hard body. The space between them closed and his penis brushed against her stomach, half-flaccid; he smelled the way he did, the way she liked.

They kissed. They kissed one another hurriedly, always cognizant of the ticking clock. Their hands tried very hard not to rip off the clothes from the other's body. One tug of his obi sash, and his yukata was open; another tug, and it was off. He was taking a bit longer with her Shinigami robes, and her eyes closed as she patiently waited for him to remove all the layers of her uniform.

The last article of clothing fell to the floor.

And then they were both naked.

With eyes the color of milk chocolate, he stared at her curves and scars as if to memorize them. His arm wrapped around her waist and pressed her close to him as he sat at the foot of the bed once more. His lips kissed across her collarbone and down the space between her breasts and stomach before lazily trailing his tongue up again. He hadn't forgotten the first and last time he had done that and the way she had responded: the gasp of surprise and approval; the goosebumps across her skin.

One large hand caressed her breast, and the pad of his thumb brushed against her nipple. Her chest rose with every breath.

The other slid over her hip and thigh and settled between her legs. He kissed her as he touched and teased her, and when he could feel her wetness, parted her. Her body shuddered at the feeling. And when he guided a thick finger inside her, a moan left her mouth.

"Ichigo _…!_ Ichig— _ooh! "_ She gripped his shoulders tightly as his finger made a "come hither" gesture inside her. Already she was gone; already she could feel the fire he sparked and made burn throughout her body. Her hips were squirming and she was biting her lip; she was dripping and clenching around him.

And then he found her spot.

Part of her wanted to fight off the need to cum so soon, but after so long since that last time and with the next time being just as far away, there was no use in holding back.

She came.

 _"Wow,"_ he murmured in awe when that feeling of bliss passed. He moved his hand from between her thighs and brought his glistening fingers up to the light.

Her palms pressed his chest and she pushed him unto the bed with her body.

Her body climbed atop his and with no hesitation, her lips fell to his chest. Her own trail of kisses down his body were slow, purposely slow, with her eyes lifting to see if he liked what she was doing.

He did.

Her fingers ran down the line of hairs past his belly button to where his dick laid flat against his stomach. He was hard.

Here came the payback. She held him in her hand and dragged her tongue against the underside of the head.

Once. Twice. A _third_ time, and then a _fou~rth_ time.

He grunted. _"Rukia…"_ his hips bucked up to meet her tongue again and moaned as she put him in her mouth instead. _"_ _… Rukia!_ _…_ _damn!_ _"_

…Yhwach's death had taken place almost two years ago. And when the battle was done and the war won and the dust settled, the only thing that remained of the Quincy that had almost overthrown everything and had left The Soul Palace in disarray was his head. He still grinned in death, a grotesque Cheshire cat.

The eyes of The Almighty had remained alive. They still gazed and stared and revolved in their sockets, stubbornly clinging to life in disregard of the death of its host.

 _"It is the most interesting phenomenon."_ Kurotsuchi had said in his presentation to Central 46. They were public assemblies, and while she had already learned of the Thirteenth Division's temporary disbandment, she had stayed behind far longer than some of her old teammates to learn about what else was unfolding. _"It lost its wielder, and yet it has retained its power. What Yhwach gleaned from Mimihagi and mixed in with his own power is what we're seeing it exhibit now. And it is strong like the king, and it is powerful like the king, and—this is most noteworthy—it exhibits sentience. A purpose."_

Confused silence fell. _"…What does all of this, what you've just said…_ _mean_ _?"_ one had asked him.

The Twelfth Division Captain had scowled, annoyed.

 _"…I'll speak slowly this time…_

 _"The overarching idea behind The Soul King_ _, namely that one must exist, is ancient history. The Soul King isn't just a dead being; it is now a dead concept. In other words: no Soul King need exist because there is no_ _need_ _for a Soul King! What now remains is The Almighty. The Almighty, in the end, has crowned itself ruler and made itself the needed, quote-unquote, linchpin. I would say it is literally_ _the_ _reason why everything has yet to crash down on itself._ _We should all be grateful, really._

 _"Although…"_ he said in a deadly tone to the people on the other side of the paper screens, _"to what end it does this, and for how long remain a mystery—even to me."_

He shrugged nonchalantly. _"Make of that what you will."_

Central 46 interpreted those words in two ways. The first: the bastardized power of The Almighty was possibly as great a threat to the planes of existence as was its creator. For The Almighty to be as powerful as was being reported was too dangerous, and they could ill afford another threat, let alone another attack. And yet: if what Kurotsuchi-taicho said was true? If it was now indeed the bond that held everything together, it needed to be allowed to fulfill its newfound purpose.

A compromise was reached: The Almighty's power would be utilized, but locked away to keep from doing harm if it ever changed its mind and decided to rain doom upon their heads.

And an initiative had been developed: in the event The Almighty ever decided to change its "mind," and again live up to the purpose Yhwach had created it for, there needed to be someone to respond to that threat.

Ichigo was approached. It was unsurprising really: it was his killing of The Almighty that had saved everyone, and his actions had continued the balance of the three worlds. Ichigo, the Human with Quincy blood; a Shinigami with power comparable to the new captain-commander Kyuraku Shunsui, and with time and a most proper teacher, his skill would be greater than that of the late Yamamoto Genryusai. He was capable: already he had been the conqueror of his own inner Hollow, and now kept it contained in his zanpakuto.

Part of her had thought he would refuse. That after doing everything he could to save everything and being asked to still do _more_ , he would just…go back to the Human World to live a regular life. He would go to school, get a job and make a home of his own. He would…get married to _someone_ , and maybe have a kid. She imagined he would be satisfied enough with that life until he was old. And even after he died—he would simply want to live somewhere in Rukongai knowing that he had done well.

And yet: _"…I always thought I was only capable of saving a mountain of people…"_ he said to the council, solemnly. Humbly. Older than what he had been as a person and now as a soul. _"But, if you think I can do more. If I_ _can_ _do more…"_ he bowed respectfully, _"I accept."_

Her being chosen for the newly-reformed Royal Guard—recreated for the sole purpose of "lending aide to Kurosaki Ichigo in battle should ever a threat come to The Almighty; or, in the event the aforementioned entity is the cause of harm, the first line of defense in preserving the balance of the Three Planes of Existence: Seriteri; the Human World; and Hueco Mundo"—came a few days later. She was to be a captain in her own right and train under Hyosube Ichibe, with her own division and city in the sky.

Nii-sama, in many words that made her feel the depth in which he would miss her, had given his blessing. It was only later on that she learned Renji was offered and had accepted the same opportunity; and Sado and Orihime, for their own reasons, had decided to give up their humanity and join Ichigo in his new life. They were met with great fanfare at their arrival to the Soul Palace, and were present as The Almighty was sealed in a tethered bubble and Kido spell after Kido spell was placed around it. The bare space of the second top-most floor became its home, and the top floor became Ichigo's.

Ichigo had kissed her for the first time their first year, at the end of her initial shift—literal _moments_ before she and her chosen soldiers were to return to her division. It had been so abrupt—the feel of his lips on hers, her back pressing against the wall, the realization that came with knowing that she was kissing him back and liking it—but not as abrupt as him suddenly turning shy, mumbling an apology, and leaving her behind with her own tumbled thoughts. That kiss had haunted her for the subsequent four months.

Which was why, in the last moments of their second shift together, she had kissed him back.

Their being together like this in the dark—fingers dancing across skin, hands between legs, and mouths and lips and teeth…kissing, licking and biting and moaning and gasping and pleading for more—had happened midway during the third shift almost accidentally. And then it happened with less caution during the fourth stay.

And almost every night during this, her fifth stay…

There was a light behind her eyes, one that burst with color as their hips met one final time and pleasure shot through her body and bubbled through the top of her head. With an arched back and his name on her lips, she came. And the way he came right afterwards, with loud moans and coarse breaths. If she wasn't trying to come down from the ceiling, she might have laughed. He sounded like he was one of the lions on the hallway wall, roaring loudly without a care of who else could hear.

They stared at one another in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

His hands moved from around her hips, no longer needing to be in control of the pace in which their skin met. She moved off him and settled unto the bed facing him. Sweat ran down her body, and he was wiping it all away with his palms. He ran his fingers over her nipples, and she remembered his mouth and tongue and teeth on her skin. She thought of how she liked it.

"Rukia… If I asked you to stay here, would you?"

"You mean, stay for another day?"

"I _mean_ …," he shifted to look at her, "live here with me."

Her eyes widened. "You want me to live in the palace with you." Her eyebrows rose as the implications of that question rose. She thought of the question _Why?_ and then heard herself ask it: "Why?"

He paused and licked his lip. "I didn't really know if you being here like this was going to happen. Maybe I _hoped_ it would happen. And now it has and—" he looked straight at her, "I… _miss you_ when you're away. If I'm going to have to wait to face The Almighty one day, then I want to have you here first."

They both laid there in silence, their faces turning pink.

"What about…everybody else?" Because that was really the thing that had come to mind first.

"…Ichibe already knows," he groused. "And Renji, Chad, and I talked about it the last time I saw them."

"You talked to them about… _us_?!"

"NO! I just needed advice. I didn't go into detail, but I didn't think it would be good to hide what was happening until it happened."

"What about Orihime?"

A frown crossed his face, an indicator of complicated thoughts. "I didn't ask her about—we had just talked about other… _things_ in the middle of her shift, and it wasn't the right time to bring it up. But, she wouldn't say no, I don't think." A heavy silence hung with his words.

"How would we do this? I have an entire division that would be really far away if an emergency happened or when I had to check in everyone's progress."

"…Maybe it could be moved closer. Or stairs could be made…" He sat up in bed and looked down at her. Her hand lifted and she began to wipe the sweat from his brow and neck. "…You don't have to say anything now, but could you think about it? I wouldn't ask if…if I didn't think we could do it."

And really, it took their getting dressed at the first sight of dawn, the sight of the cannon that would catapult her through the air, and the thought of being away from him that she knew her answer: "Okay."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _A way less melancholy rendering of version 1.1. It didn't start off with The Almighty becoming the thing that became The Soul King, but once the thought crossed my mind, the story came. The idea of how Ichigo and Rukia's future in lieu of The Almighty being "The Soul King" changed everything: 100 years became about 3; Ichibe (who I like) became Kurotsuchi (who fit with what I was going with better); and while Byakuya's monologue is gone I added some lemon! (Yay, the M rating finally gets to make sense!)_


	5. The Happiness and then The Joy

_**"**_ _ **…**_ _ ** _I s_ hall find the future…that one moment in time where each of you feel the greatest amount of joy and happiness…**_

 _ **"And it is there I shall slaughter you."**_

* * *

 **The Happiness and then The Joy**

* * *

It was a long, black blob the size of her pinkie. Like a slug—with a little _eye_. And that eye looked like a fish's after it had been caught: cold and dead-looking. It was weird…but not really scary.

She knew scarier things existed.

Her big, purple eyes widened and she began to breathe very quietly so that it didn't run away or hide. "Oh, _wow_."

It moved and made her jump back a little. But, she didn't run away. It was…just looking around the alleyway with its little fish eye.

She could understand that: she had been in the Living World for a little bit, and it was full of colors and lights and smells that weren't in Seriteri. Even the alleyway was full of… _things_ Mommy had never told her about. She wondered if the Shinigami academy even knew about this stuff.

Reiatsu pushed out from the slug once more and it blew up like a bubble. The bubble got bigger and pressed against the buildings, but it popped when it came in contact with her face. The _whoosh_ of air made everything around her shake a little.

"What _is_ it?" she whispered, reaching her hand out towards it.

"I don't know, but I don't think you should touch it!"

She turned behind her and saw that her gigai was standing in the opening of the alleyway. It was her first gift from the Living World, and Mister Urahara had told her that Humans in the Living World would be able to see her and talk to her. Before she had felt the bubble of reiatsu and found the slug, seeing her gigai move on its own from a piece of Soul Candy (the packet with the tiger on it had been Mister Urahara's other gift) would have been the weirdest thing she saw—but now it was the second.

"I'm _not~!_ " she said. She didn't like that the gigai was treating her like a little kid.

Her gigai's hands looked just like hers, and they were wringing the front of the mint-green, strawberry-patterned yukata she had been dressed in. (The yukata was her third gift, and Mister Urahara had said her grandpa had given to her: _"It would be a great surprise for him to come back from the Senikamon and see you wear it, ne?"_ he had said, smiling down at her from underneath the shadows his funny hat made.)

There was a scared look in her gigai's purple eyes, and it began shaking her head furiously. A big, sparkly sunflower-shaped hair clip came loose on the left and her hair bun and the style was coming loose. " _Still~!_ It's not a _good_ thing!"

"But how come? It's not a Hollow…" She pressed her real hands to the sides of her real head and her brow wrinkled. At that moment, she was more scared that the ribbons in her actual hair buns were going to start falling out— _that_ would have made Mommy super mad, but they were still okay. "And it's so _small_ …"

" _Still~!_ We should go back to the shop and wait for your mother to come! Or your father to come to the shop like Urahara-san said he was going to!"

Right. This was her first trip to the Living World _ever_ , and seeing her daddy was the reason why Mommy had let her go ahead first. Mommy had said after she was born, he had been gone with his friends in the place where Hollows lived to look for "someone bad." It was a special mission from Kyoraku-dono, but the search was done, and he was coming back to the Living World and then to Seriteri was Mommy and her.

She was going to meet her daddy for the first time she could remember today.

Her daddy. The man who had saved Seriteri, the Living World, and even the place where Hollows lived. The man with reiatsu that everyone—Mommy, Kyoraku-dono, her uncles, and now Mister Urahara—said felt like the sun. Big and warm and bright.

And who had the same exact color of strawberry hair she did in the wedding picture Mommy kept in her room, the one of them smiling together.

There was another bubble of reiatsu, but this time it felt different against her skin. Like…it was going straight to her bones. It made her freeze.

The black slug turned its head and looked straight at her with its one eye.

And then it made another eye. And then another.

* * *

Byakuya was running through Seriteri. It felt like mere moments had passed since a look of contentment had graced his handsome features. Not that it was still a rarity. In fact, the last time he had smiled openly had been at breakfast that morning.

But now, his blue eyes held the serious gaze of a captain.

"The reiastu response is coming from the West 55th block!" The mere mention of that name made Byakuya spare a glance to his new vice captain who was shouting to be heard over the alarm blaring throughout the Gotei 13's base. The West 55th block was the last section under construction, and the one closest to the Thirteenth Division's barracks.

"The reports are saying that…it's thought to be remnants of Yhwach's energy."

Although he did not show it, he felt worry. This had been a day of happiness: it was his niece's first trip to the Living World; it was the day of Rukia's inauguration ceremony. He had ensured that the events of this happy day were planned very carefully: as the ceremony took place, her daughter was to be escorted by two experienced officers of the Sixth Division. Rukia was to follow at the ceremony's end, and then they were both to rendezvous at the base of Urahara Kisuke's operations.

The party had left as scheduled, and there had been no word of distress. His niece was safe, was almost as safe in the Living World as she would be in Seriteri.

And yet, with this alarm on this day of absolute happiness, the very kind they had all been warned about…

He indeed felt happiness. And he indeed remembered what had happened the last time happiness had been felt by all so deeply.

He quickened his pace, leaving his subordinate behind. Tunnel vision made the buildings around him a blur.

"Kuchiki!"

He looked up to find the captain of the Second Division running along the rooftop above him. She dropped down from her perch, a flutter of black and white robes. "Squad Thirteen's captain just left, en route to the Living World. Her envoy is expected to arrive there safely as well." Soifon's words about his niece's safety brought levity to Byakuya's turbulent mood, although he did not outwardly display it. "Should there be an attempt to summon her back to Seriteri? I'm certain she would want to lead efforts to contain the threat."

He remembered the shine that had come to Rukia's eyes at the mere prospect of undertaking her authorized journey to the Living World. "No," he replied. "There is no need to bother her with this. It has been a long time she has been apart from her husband; this is a special day for them both.

"I shall handle this matter personally."

Silence. But then: "…Is it strange that this is happening after so long?" She met his glance with one of her own. "We've all made efforts to keep her safe…and there has been no sighting of The Almighty for over ten years…"

He was very aware of the incident she referred to, that specific day the Almighty had appeared in Seriteri after his escape from what he believed the academy's history books now called The Bloody War. "It matters _not._ " He repeated. "She is safe in The Living World, and The Almighty will be addressed."

The two most stoic captains of the Gotei 13 again fell to silence as they approached the site. Their other first responder was already waiting patiently, hands clasped carefully behind his back.

"…How peculiar," Kurotsuchi began. His latest headpiece made his silhouette fitting against the backdrop of the construction site's piles of rubble and neat stacks of bricks and cement bags. "I do not recall informing anyone of this incident…and yet, here you are." His gaze focused on Soifon's petite form. "Ah yes, of course… One of your sneaky little birdies found out my secret."

The Second Division captain scowled. "Protocol states that possible sightings of The Almighty are to be responded to by no more than three top-ranking officers. And yet, Kurotsuchi, you didn't raise the alarm. And you are here—alone…"

"Yes. Which allowed me the privacy of creating the appropriate barrier to contain The Almighty's reiatsu. Imagine the damage it may have caused had I had to accommodate…bystanders."

"I remain suspicious about your intentions here."

His eyebrow raised. "…You mistakenly believe me concerned about your suspicions towards me."

"Are you planning to violate the orders of the Captain-Commander?"

He smiled, and his face paint made the expression all the more grotesque. "And what orders would those be?"

"To neutralize any threats that come to the daughter of—"

Byakuya felt a sudden flash of irritation at the exchange. "Now is not an appropriate time to conduct an interrogation…or," his glare focused on the Twelfth Division captain, "to play coy about the happenstance of this occurrence."

 _"Souchi."_ Byakuya looked over to see an Onmitsukido agent standing off to the side of the sight. The agent, from his build, a young man, knelt in acknowledgement of his commander.

…A fierce look lingered in her eye as she walked towards him.

"What has it done so far?" Byakuya asked the other captain.

Kurotsuchi looked at his audience of one. "…Nothing. It seems previous reports detailing the encounter with The Almighty ten years ago do not make mention of this moment." He said that pointedly to the man who had indeed written the decade-old document he referenced. "It seems The Almighty undergoes a time of quote, unquote birth. Its reiatsu is much more fragile in this state, like a newborn's, but on a much grander scale. Yet, its domed appearance is a certain defense mechanism that makes it difficult to approach in this state.

"…Today's the first day I've discovered that even _I_ have learned to be cautious when dealing with The Almighty." In a subconscious move, he gingerly touched his hand, and then caught himself. He scoffed. "…It _surprises_ me greatly to think that The Almighty is so attracted to a _child_ —even if that child is the daughter of the hybrid."

"Kurosaki- _taicho_ ," Byakuya corrected. If nothing else, this man would give the proper respect to his brother-in-law's standing in the Gotei 13.

The Twelfth Division captain scoffed. "…Is that little girl really what The Almighty believes is the culmination of that person's _joy_ and _happiness?_ " He refrained from spitting out the words, but still: his long, pink tongue jutted from his mouth in an expression of disgust.

The noble wished the things he could say about his niece—her smile and bubbling laughter; her impulsive curiosity and quiet sweetness; the spark of life that shined in the eyes she inherited from her mother, and the glow of her hair that was the same hue as her father's—burned on his tongue. But he would not have such thoughts rest on deaf ears. "Yes," he said simply.

The Almighty's reiatsu changed.

"WHAT?" The sixth and twelfth captains turned their heads towards their fellow comrade. She turned away from her agent and her normally terse expression was panicked. "A separate reading of The Almighty has appeared in The Living World!"

The Sixth Division captain headed towards the alleyway at her words. There was no longer need for conversation.

And there he was, as he had been ten years ago: face-to-face with the black, gurgling mass that was The Almighty. It was fruitless to distinguish one from the other as long ago, the power it possessed and its wielder had become one.

He watched as one of its cold, dead eyes spotted him— _them_ , for Soifon and Kurotsuchi were behind him, prepared to fight the creature.

He was remembering a day he didn't often dwell on. When The Almighty had first reappeared on the day of his niece's birth, years after Ywhach's disappearance, more man than ambiguous mass with its many eyes focused on him:

 _"And here it is…I have found the future. The moment in which my son feels the greatest amount of joy and happiness… Tell me, how is Kurosaki Masaki in her first moments of life?"_

"Kuchiki," Soifon murmured, "my agent informed me that Kurosaki successfully received word of The Almighty's presence in Karakura."

* * *

This was like when she had seen a snake eat a frog one time last year. When she had told her uncle about it, seeing a skinny snake swallow a frong, he had said that snakes catch frogs by staring at them. Hypnotizing them.

That's how she felt like. She was the frog, and she couldn't move because she was being hypnotized.

"We need to go~!" Her gigai found her voice and then her ability to run. The sounds her sandals made as she ran away were soft and squishy. "Let's go back to Urahara-san's shop! _Hurry, Masaki-chan!_ "

She made the move to turn and run right when the slug pushed its reiatsu again, and even though she ran as hard as she could, she knew that she wouldn't make it. The bubble and that bad feeling passed through her again only this time, instead of it popping and feeling the whoosh of air against her face, it made a wall at the alleyway's opening.

She could not escape. The black _…thing_ wasn't going to let her.

With wide eyes, she turned back around.

It had a mouth. And teeth. _"…Kurosaki Masaki…"_

This time, she could understand it, and it was saying _her name._

"MASAKI-CHAN!" Her gigai was banging against the barrier between them. "NOOOO~! MASAKI-CHAN!"

 _"…Kurosaki…Masaki… "_

The slug wasn't a slug anymore. And if she really _was_ a frog, then that black thing was a snake—a real, live snake with power bigger than her.

Still. Her right hand lifted and she grasped her wrist with her left hand. Her arm and her body were shaking, but she did what her Bya-oji had made her promise she would do if she ran into trouble in The Living World: "Ye lord! Mask of…mask of, of, of, _flesh!_ And bone! …Who bears the name of Man—"

She had said it wrong again, the same way she always. She had forgotten the part about the wings. "Y-y-ye…lord…"

The black slug-snake's tail curled towards her and grew longer and thicker. She watched as the tip separated into five thin sections and then change and meld once more. A hand. The mouth became more than just a mouth: it grew a chin; a nose; a mustache…a face. The face of a man with many eyes. _"Kidou will not help you, Kurosaki Masaki!"_

Her words trailed.

She fell to her knees.

 _"I have waited until this moment to find you, child. There is nothing you can do against me, as weak as you are…"_

This was the most scared she had been in her life… _This_ kind of scared made her wish she could do things over again. To have ran away faster. To have not left her gigai. To have stayed where Mister Urahara was or even waited back home with Mommy.

She squeezed her eyes shut, as if that would make her disappear. She felt scared. She felt really, really scared.

And then she felt something different. A whoosh of air from above.

And another reiatsu.

It felt like it was all around her. And it felt warm and bright.

Like the sun.

There came the sound of metal cutting the air and then a ragged sound. The black thing with eyes was screaming, but she couldn't see why.

She had been scooped up into someone's arms, and her ear was pressed against that person's chest. She could hear a heartbeat…it felt so strong…

"…Thank goodness I found you…Masaki." The deep voice of a man said.

Her eyes opened.

The first thing she saw when she looked up was hair. Hair the same exact color as hers, long enough to be pulled back into a samurai's chonmage. He also had a beard that covered his chin and made him look older than the picture in Mommy's room. He looked down at her and she saw his eyes were brown and gentle. He smiled. "Oh man…I don't want to put you down, but I have to for just a second…

"Is that okay, Masaki?"

She nodded slowly.

"Nothing's going to hurt you." He smiled. "I promise."

And then his handsome face changed into something more fiercer.

With a flutter of his Shinigami robes and his captain's haori, he walked to where the black thing was. It was stuck under two blades—the zanpakuto her other uncle, RenRen-oji told her was one sword but two pieces. It squirmed, but he didn't move them. He grasped their hilts and crouched down. "I finally found the rest of you, you bastard. I've waited a long time to finally finish this."

 _"Ichigo…"_ the thing said, _"you think you have accomplished something here today...?"_

"I _know_ I have. There wasn't much of you left after Hueco Mundo. We made sure of that. And whatever you're planning in Seriteri ain't gonna happen. This is the last bit of you, Yhwach."

 _"You think yourself free to live a life of pure happiness? That you will always be able to be so blissful?!"_

"No, I don't. But with you gone, whatever I get will be more than enough. Happiness with my friends, my family, my wife…and my daughter."

 _"We shall see…Ichigo…"_

"No, you won't. _…Getsuga Tensho…_ "

And before her eyes, black flames rose and that black snake-slug-man and its five eyes burst into pieces.

* * *

He heard Soifon utter the words that were on his lips first. "The Almighty's…disappearing?!"

So it was. The slivers of his zanpaktou rested on the ground, his awe moving them to take pause in observance of this event. Byakuya watched as the mass that was The Almighty disintegrated before his very eyes, writhing like snakes without their heads, and curling into themselves.

Kurotsuchi, however, picked up one petrified tendril. His brow furrowed as it dried into a sandy gray, cracked and broke into pieces underfoot. "Hmmmm…"

And then somehow there came a burst of a different reiatsu, one that he knew very well. "…Kurosaki reached Masaki in time…" he murmured quietly, grateful.

His blue eyes closed in relief and happiness.

And he felt joy rush in.

* * *

He came back to her and knelt down to face her. They were eye-to-eye, and his were looking at her really closely. "…You've gotten so big. But, I guess that was bound to happen with you being ten and all." His hand touched one of her buns and her ribbon. "And so pretty."

Just her and, "…Daddy…?"

He smiled and nodded. "…Yeah…"

Her hands were reaching out to him and touching his hair. Testing that it was real and learning that it was. It really _was_ just like hers! "I like your beard and I like your hair!"

Laughing, he scooped her up into his arms . "Do you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, that's good." He kissed her cheek and she felt the rough brush of his strawberry-colored hair on her cheek. "I'm happy you do…" He pulled back and stared at her once more, "And I'm happy you're here."

"I'm happy you're here too, Daddy."

And she _was_ happy.

And she felt joy rush in.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** This ficclet is  not a continuation of "Chapter 686: B-side."_

 _In the moments after Kubo made the true otp ship sink like The Titanic, I searched Tumblr for an outlet of my IchiRuki feels. There were already a lot of posts being made, and I came across one analyzing the reasons for the emergence of The Almighty after a decade. The gist of it was, Yhwach/The Almighty appeared again because Ichigo was at his happiest that day, and the reason why he was happy was because he was reuniting with Rukia—a tie-in with Yhwach's quote I use in the beginning of this one-shot. _

_That's basically the premise of this story: The Almighty's appearance on a day where Ichigo would be at his happiest—reuniting with Rukia. That said, I decided to take it a step further and focus on what would be an absolute source of joy for both characters—my fanon IchiRuki love child. I again used the baby I imagined from "Chapter 686: B-side" and fleshed out the character much more fully because I am so fascinated (also, I think Kubo did a terrible job making his characters act like actual parents. How is Rukia just okay with her daughter disappearing like that on her first trip to the Living World?!)._ _I don't often write from the perspective of a 10-year-old, so I hope that she was authentic. My aim was for her to have some of the adorable silliness of a young Masaki from "Everything But the Rain" and the toughness of her parents. I hope that came across well._

 _(Sidenote: writing about Masaki brought up a lot of questions I have about Ichigo and Orihime's kid. I really wish I knew how he was able to completely get rid of The Almighty in_ _two_ _places with a touch because he's, like,_ _seven_ _! Also, he was able to fight the Almighty in a room of 4 adults, 3 of whom are captain-level fighters?!)_

 _Byakuya, Soifon, and Kurotsuchi are here to line up with events from the manga's Chapter 686—and also, I just like Byakuya talking about Ichigo and Rukia._

 _Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the head-cannon. R &R and follow._


	6. Black Sun & White Moon

**Black Sun & White Moon**

 **(The Shakespearian Tragedy)**

* * *

 _"Ah."_ Yhwach said as blood dripped from his mouth and his two fatal wounds. Even in death, even as he stood misshapen and stripped of the power of The Almighty, his voice was of one who thought himself victorious. "It seems we have all reached an impasse…"

The cloudy sky and crumbling piles of Seriteri's buildings came back into view. His throat had only just finished burning from the sound of his own voice. And before that, the column of total whiteness that had risen before his blood-red eyes had fully dissipated, and the feeling coolness against his face and torso had only just become a memory. He had only become so aware of the blood coating his skin and the broken bones of Ywhach's ribcage pressing against his arm; he had only gotten used to the sensation of crushing The Quincy's heart in his black-tinged hands.

Maybe it was the knowledge of victory and the heaviness of what he had again sacrificed to win that had kept him from understanding what had happened in that moment of blackness. He had only become aware of the sensation of Yhwach's dull nails and fingers impaling his chest. His essence, blackness itself, seeped from the wound and saturated his bandages as it ran down his body.

He had only just begun to feel these things all at once. Dying in this way was entirely new.

After all: a zanpaktou only knew existence ceased at the end of its wielder's life, and the action itself—a snap or severing of metal—was more instant than simply a passage of time. But in this form of flesh and bone, this existence initiated by desperation…he was made to feel death _slowly_ , so _slowly_ that it allowed room for no other thought or distraction.

And yet.

And yet, it was all too crystal-clear when he heard _her_ gasp. Death for her came with a heave of her chest and a wild look of surprise in her wide, pale lavender eyes. She had never been flesh and bone before; she gasped in disbelief at the overbearing sensation of this specific type of pain. Her hands groped its source: Yhwach's other hand piercing through her own essence. Blinding whiteness tinged the Quincy's fingers, and when she coughed once more, the same color spilled from the wound and down her robes, dulling their color. Drops of white splashed unto the brown dirt and blades of green grass.

They all fell to their knees.

 _"Shira…yuki…"_ he murmured, his fingers digging into the ground made black with the bleeding wound in his own chest.

And then: _"…Rukia…"_

 _…_ _"I shall leave this gate open… And if you choose to pass through, then in light of your exceptional spirit and fortitude… I shall bestow upon you a most extravagant and luxurious death…_

 _"The death you seem so desperate to achieve, Ichigo."_

 _Rukia and Renji had come upon the ruins of their battle. Yhwach stood triumphant. Shrouded in the body of The Almighty, he withdrew from the Greater Soul Palace through the swirling rift he created, intent on continuing the spread of his destruction in Seriteri and the Living World._

 _He had been left on the ground, bloody and tired and utterly defeated. He had lost. The depths in which he had pushed his power had not been good enough; the limit to which he had exerted his body had not been good enough. The only thing he had left as Renji scraped him from the ground was Zangetsu…_

 _And one, final and desperate thought._

 _It was that thought that made him find the strength to keep going._

 _He kept his eyes to the ground. He called out Renji and Rukia's names, stopping their quarrel about what was happening and what they could possibly do to stop it mid-sentence._

 _And he told them, "Please make sure that Inoue is safe."_

 _It was that thought that made him ignore Renji's words of warning and sent him running into the abyss Yhwach had created. Both sides of Zangetsu, The Old Man and even The Horse, disagreed and protested. They called him foolish for what he was planning to do_ _._

 _And yet, he ignored them and kept running. He wasn't going to change his mind or turn back now that he had made peace with what he was going to do._

 _"…Ichigo! Ichigo! Ichigo—STOP!"_

 _And yet, he_ _did_ _stop._

 _For her._

 _Rukia's hand gripped his robes and she turned him around to face her. Her chest rose and fell with the effort she had made in running to him. "What are you trying to do?"_

 _"…I'm…" her asking _that question surprised him because he could see in her eyes that she_ _knew_ _what he was going to do._ "I'm following Yhwach and stopping him." And the look in her eyes made him honest with her. "I'm going to become Getsuga again…"_

 _Her grip tightened. "And why would you do that?"_

 _"Why would I…?"_

" _You've fought against Yhwach alone and lost, and now you are running back to fight again._ _Alone._

 _"Ichigo," she looked up at him with her wide eyes, "what are you trying to achieve?! What do you think you are capable doing by yourself?"_

 _The question made heat come to his face._ _"I'm…"_ _Of all people, he thought that Rukia would understand. No_ _—he knew she understood._ _So what was she asking?_ _"I'm…I'M TRYING TO SAVE EVERYONE! Like…like how you showed me!_ _Rukia, you were the one that taught me that if I have the power to save people, I should use it! And I do have that power, and I'm willing to use it…again." The unspoken ramifications of his decision, the reminder that he would again lose what he had just gained, and that…she would again be gone from his world, settled unspoken on his tongue._

 _"AND WHY ARE YOU SO WILLING TO DO THAT BY YOURSELF?!"_

 _He fell silent at her raised voice…and the tears falling from her fiery eyes._

 _"Yes. I taught you to save people— all people. And you have…time and time again. But, I never meant for you to do this by yourself…or for it to be just you in the end." She shook him slightly to emphasize her point. "I never meant for it to be just you fighting to save me or fighting against Aizen—or even Yhwach now. I never meant for it to be just you._

 _She let go of his robes. "I'm not letting you do it again."_

 _His eyes widened._

 _She unsheathed her sword and held it out to him. "I'm fighting with you."_

 _Surprise and protest rang through his body, and he felt Zangetsu do the same in his hands. They had their own reasons: The Old Man was staunchly against the idea of "The Girl Who Stops the Rain" coming to harm; The Horse echoed the same sentiments towards the one he considered to be the "Queen." "Rukia… I can't ask you to do that!"_

 _"Fool," she whispered, her grip tightening around Sode no Shirayuki's handle. "I'm not asking."_

 _His head shook vigorously. "You can't do that! If you do, you'll lose your Shinigami powers—you'll probably disappear. Rukia—Rukia why would you do that?"_

 _She fell to silence. "Because if you're willing to risk pushing yourself so much to fight and get hurt…if you're willing to risk your happiness again, without question… If you're willing to do this much to save Seriteri and the Living World and even Hueco Mundo, I am willing to bear what will happen to you in the end as well. Because…that is how much you mean to me._

 _"I care about you," she swallowed nervously. "And I care… for you."_

 _…What could he say to that?_

 _Nothing. Except:_ _"…Okay…"_

 _They held hands for maybe the first time, and he felt how perfectly her hand fit inside his._

 _They closed their eyes._

 _And then he opened his. And he turned towards her, leaning forward and seeking her lips with his own. Her breathing hitched, which made him wonder if this was her first kiss as well, but she didn't pull away from him. Rukia's lips felt the way he had imagined. He breathed in her smell, the one that reminded him of juniper, cool nights, and falling snow. A blend of colors shimmered and glittered behind his closed eyes._

 _They parted. "I care for you, too."_

 _And then he retreated into his inner world…_

…It was Getsuga who opened his eyes next. His black flames flared and licked the air, the tips bursting into sparks of burnished orange as they died. He was only so aware of the changes in this form—the horns that protruded from his head, the white tips of his hair, and the expanse of his own power.

But he was truly in awe of hers. "…Shirayuki…"

Her hair and her eyelashes, her kimono, the ornaments she wore…all were white. And to see her essence, the whips of white light that emitted from her form and danced around her. He, in his black flames, could only help but to be _attracted_ to her. To desire her, as utterly beautiful as she was, and the _light_ she emitted.

Like a bee to nectar.

Like a moth to a flame.

Like the Sun to the Moon itself.

…Like he himself had been the moment he first saw her dance in her wielder's delicate, precious hands.

He reached out and touched her for the first time. She still had the eyes of her wielder, although they too had become a lighter hue, a very pale violet. And he felt her cool fingertips against his body. She explored him as well, unbothered by and unafraid of the flames about him. The way she looked up at him…surely she was in awe of him as well.

If only it could last forever. But the humanity they saw within each other reminded them that time was fleeting.

"…Shall we dance?" she asked.

His lips behind his bandages curved up into a smile. Amused. "…Yes…"

They emerged from that vortex hand in hand.

Yhwach turned to face them, his expression expectant. The eyes of The Almighty roved and turned, their gaze staring far beyond this moment. "You have indeed come to challenge me once more, Ichi— _No._ You are…not simply 'Ichigo' are you…?"

"…No…" he replied slowly. "You are familiar with who I am."

"Ah, yes. I am… After all, I am partly responsible for how you appear now. I've seen the futures where you stand before me in this—" The bravado died on his lips as every one of his unholy eyes focused on her. "…And who is that beside you?"

"Oh? _Me?"_ Shirayuki gasped, feigning surprise. "Has The Almighty truly failed to witness _me_ in its infinite futures?"

Yhwach's eyebrow rose at her cockiness. The Almighty was back to its rolling and dead gazing. "Hmmm. Ah, yes: you I have seen but once. A fleeting moment in time, one The Almighty deemed unworthy of fully exploring."

"So: you do not know what the future brings with my presence."

"I know your presence is short; I know your efforts will be fruitless, as his will be. And I cannot bother to remember the name of every…speck of _dust_ that dares to fly near my eye."

"Oh?" Shirayuki said once more, this time her tone revealing that she was truly insulted. "Then," she stepped forward and bowed, "allow me, in these last moments of your life, to become utterly memorable."

Getsuga watched her step forward.

And he bore witness to her dance around Yhwach's body. They both stood memorized: Yhwach in shock at how quickly she darted around him; and he in awe at her grace, at her deadly intent.

She moved away for safety, and there came a pause.

The Almighty, the part he had seen her touch with her fingers, began to freeze and fall away from the rest of its body.

A grin spread across her beautiful face as a sound akin to a scream was let loose into the atmosphere. The Almighty's eyes roved and rolled, pained at being harmed.

Yhwach moved in offense—but not fast enough, for she had moved once more. This time, the dance was short and ended with her hand pierced clean through The Quincy's torso.

Blood dripped from her fingers.

Blood dripped from the hole she made in Yhwach's abdomen.

Blood dripped and dripped and seeped unto the ground.

 _"…Togame…"_ she whispered.

A column of white emerged. And grew in diameter, touching every rock and creeping into the places where darkness hid in fear of the light.

Getsuga felt the coolness against him and was unafraid. And like ink across paper, he moved through that blankness and blight.

 _"…Mugetsu…"_

Darkness, spurred to confidence from its earlier cowardice, sliced through the whiteness. It pushed against its other extreme, consuming it as if it were life itself. It was there, in that darkness, he found Yhwach, stripped of all other evidence of The Almighty. And it was truly nothing to press his fingers through blackness and nightmares and skin and bone and hold The Quincy's heart…

…And now here they were: victorious and defeated, a hollow victory that had brought them to the edge of existence and into the abyss of death. For surely in this form, there could only be The End.

The last of Yhwach's body, his floating head, spoke. "Because of all your efforts here, life and death will never lose their current forms…and all those who breathe will continue to pass each and every day by living in fear of death." And then he grinned. "…If only you could have fully lived in the future you yourself created… This future you believed worthy of… _saving_ …" He spat the word out.

And his existence faded into oblivion.

And now it was only them.

They fell to the sun-dried earth together. The pools of themselves, black and white, blended and mixed together.

Her eyes were still open and they stared at him, memorizing his face.

He did the same in his losing battle with Death. Never had she looked more beautiful.

If only they could truly face that new frontier of total darkness and… _nothingness_ together.

Their hands reached out for one another, fingers creeping through pools of white and black to meet in the middle where color bleached and ceased to matter. He felt her hand against the gaping hole in his chest…and he, too, touched hers.

…For some reason, it reminded him of their beginning: her sword through his heart.

"Rukia…" he murmured, "thank you…for everything…"

She smiled. "Thank you…Ichigo…"

She sighed and Life left her eyes.

He, too, sighed. And he, too, ceased to exist.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _This is what happens when two days into_ _Bleach_ _being a total disappointment you What'sApp your friend who used to watch the show but stopped after Aizen was defeated (smart girl) to get your feelings out and at one point say "I would have rather Ichigo and Rukia DIED in a blaze of glory than IchiHime be canon!"_

 _And she goes, "Wow, that's intense."_

 _And you go, "Yes and I meant it!"_

 _And your brain goes, "Hey! …Write that down."_

 _Yhwach's quotes are from the manga._

 _Honestly, publishing this made/makes me so nervous. As much as I like it, it's a bit nerve-wrecking to kill off characters, especially when they are the main characters and your otp. I would like to thank the guest commenter for the review inquiring about the ficclet when it first went missing. Reviews are important: they show that readers care and were engaged and encourage more writing. So review and let me know what you thought._


	7. What The Dog Knows What The Sword Knows

**What The Dog Knows; What The Sword Knows**

* * *

…He was tired. Every single one of his fucking muscles—muscles he seemed to only remember he had when he pushed them to the absolute limit—throbbed and ached. His legs felt like lead; the air that filled his lungs felt like it wasn't enough…even his skin, as bruised as it was, hurt. But still, he forced himself to continue running through this fake Dangai.

This was the last stand against Yhwach…but what he was doing right now, running, wasn't because thought he could've waited to see through, but felt like he couldn't anymore.

His Zanpakuto bounced against his leg, but he could feel The Baboon and The Snake with him during this run to the end of the path. It was usually in their nature to make themselves known in the time between the second-to-last fight and the actual fight, so that was nothing surprising. He expected both to go on about their opinions…and yet, for once, both deigned to voice one. Not that he didn't know what they would've said if there was time:

The snake would make a bunch of noise about how _Otoko_ and _the boy_ were again gallivanting off to battle to show off…

And the baboon would speak _his_ piece about…things he himself never really said out loud anymore, but still felt _deep down_ …or maybe not so deep down.

And he, despite their belly-achin' and questions, would continue to have them trail behind him as he himself followed behind Ichigo…and ignored the reasons why he did so…

 _They, Ichigo and Rukia, had once again found time to be alone. They stood at a distance that made them easy to see among the plants and shrubbery the Royal Guard captain maintained, and there weren't any birds around to drown out their voices. As usual, neither of them seemed concerned about anyone else overhearing their conversation—they hadn't even really ever noticed the open palace windows._

 _Maybe because their conversation was harmless. There wasn't any harm in talking about the next steps they'd be making to regroup with the others…and it wasn't like there was more to what they were saying:_

" _Do you really need the hat, the scarf,_ _and_ _the goggles for the trip?" Ichigo._

 _A scoff. " Of course. We're not leaving The Soul Palace by traditional means, and it's cold on the way back down to Seriteri. I need everything Shutara-taicho gave me if I'm not going to freeze on the way down. And the goggles are for me to see. I don't want to do something foolish like fall through a building." Rukia._

 _Ichigo gave her a look. "Dummy. You won't go through a building."_

" _You're right: I_ _won't_ _because I have goggles to see…" A cocky, teasing smirk spread across her face. "Are you_ _jealous_ _because they look so cool on me?"_

 _His face scrunched at her words. "Not even."_

 _But still: there was more to the way they were standing and moving, like their were both revolving around one another and had done so for their entire lives. There was more to Rukia's grin, the way it naturally appeared on her face like…like the time after winter when the ice melts away and everyone feels happy again._

The Baboon snorted at the sentimentality.

Renji kept his eyes on the path ahead. He didn't know if it was helping him to think of Rukia's smile from that time. It made him play the numbers game…the number of times Rukia smiled around Ichigo versus him; the number of times he felt like Rukia moved around him the way she did around Ichigo, like they were doing this strange dance that wasn't _really_ a dance but _felt_ like a dance—

The Baboon snorted again.

" _Rukia." Ichigo was standing at his closest to her, his expression all business. "…Do you think you'll see the guy that hurt you?"_

" _Maybe…" But she didn't say much else, just…stared off. Her smile was gone and what was left was a far off expression, like she was already in the middle of her rematch with Mask de Masculine._

"… _Well, if you do and you fight them…just," Ichigo swallowed, "be careful."_

 _Her face—eyes, lips—softened into surprise. "Are you worried about me fighting?"_

 _He glanced at her, mouth set in a straight line, but didn't speak._

" _Since when have you been worried about me fighting?!" Her cheeks turned pink at his silence. "Ichigo, I'll be able to handle Sode no—"_

" _No…" he shook his head, "I'm not worried about you fighting with your bankai. I know you'll be okay. It's just…" He sighed. "Do you remember when we saw each other on that bridge in Seriteri? That one that led to where you were being kept?" She nodded slowly, remembering. "Okay, well do you remember why you told me to go back?"_

 _She looked him right in the eye and Renji saw that she hadn't forgotten that time when he saved her at all. "…I didn't want you getting hurt."_

" _Okay. So…" He made a jerky movement with his arm as he reached to scratch the back of his head. "I don't want you to get hurt. Not like you were before."_

"… _I'm not the only reason why you looked so sad after the attack?"_

 _His eyes met hers. "No…"_

 _Renji realized that he waiting to hear if Ichigo would talk about the other reason—the gap of time between his leaving and returning to Nimaiya's shack—but he didn't. And Rukia wasn't going to force him to…that was another thing they seemed to do with on another._

" _I'll be careful." She said finally. "But, you be careful too. Don't fight all the Quincy at once. Don't even fight Yhwach by yourself…you don't have to do it alone, you know."_

 _Ichigo smiled that fighter's smile he liked so much. "I'll hold back until you find me."_

 _He watched another smile spread across Rukia's face. The most beautiful smile she had, the one she wore for days after her life had been saved by Ichigo…the one she wore when they had all gone back to The Living World, as if there was something to look forward to in the wake of Aizen's betrayl…the one she had given to Ichigo the last time they had fought as one, the one that had crossed her face for a split second before she had ran down the hallway of Las Noches in Hueco Mundo._

 _Maybe when the two of them, Renji and Ichigo, had the same feelings when that smile appeared. But it was only Ichigo who acted on the way he felt after seeing it._

 _He cupped her face and kissed her._

 _And she held his wrists and closed her eyes and kissed him back. Her grip was tight, like she was scared Ichigo would pull away—as if he would actually_ _want_ _to pull away._

 _And Renji saw the pretty blush had spread across her face as they parted._

He had finally reached the end.

Ichigo stood before the portal's opening where Seriteri lay in broken pieces. He was bruised to the point it was a miracle he could even fuckin' stand, and his robes were tattered. It was like the day Renji couldn't forget, that day he saw Ichigo standing in Seriteri's sky unbothered by the heat of Sokyoku at his back. Like that day, his reiatsu radiated from him in flames, and a certain gleam caught along the edge of his Zanpakuto, which had again changed from what he had known it to be before—

The snake hissed, warning him to change the course of his thoughts.

Renji neared Ichigo and stared at him. Hesitancy was written all over him: in the way his arms and legs moved; the clench of his jaw and flare of his nostrils; and the nervous gripping and re-gripping of his sword's hilt.

Ichigo stared at him, looking every bit of 17.

Renji frowned. "What's wrong?"

"…Nothing."

He smacked his teeth, as annoyed with the antics and Zabimaru was annoyed with him. "Bullshit. Yer hesitatin'."

Nothing.

"You're strong enough to do this, right?"

Silence.

" 'Course you are. So, what are you waiting for? _Go and fight, Ichigo!"_

Nada..

"Are you gonna say something?" Renji cupped his ear. "Or just keep standing there shaking?"

Ichigo didn't speak, but glared as if to ask, _Why are you here?_ or better yet, _Why isn't Rukia here?_

Which was a good question: Why _was_ he here, trailing behind Ichigo for Rukia's sake, and standing in for her? Why, after all the other times she had disobeyed orders and protocol, was he here for her this time?

And better yet: _Why_ was he here for Ichigo, too? Why _Ichigo_?

What _exactly_ was it that had made him again follow behind them as they ran after each other?

" _You know why,"_ The Baboon's voice resounded in his head. His sword spoke of Rukia's face as she had watched Ichigo enter through this portal after Yhwach. How _conflicted_ and _worried_ she looked; how she looked at the hand she passed over Orihime-chan's body to heal her, as if to will it to go faster so that she could be here by his side. _"You have dragged us to be beside the boy for the sake of the girl."_ The Snake said now. _"So, will you not speak? Will you not do what you made peace with that time? And the time before? And the time before that?!"_

Renji headbutted Ichigo mid-sentence.

" _Owww!_ Renji, what the—"

And then he balled up his fist and connected it to Ichigo's jaw, making him stumble.

The third strike meant for his chest was blocked. "All right! I get it! There's no need to keep smackin' me around!"

He didn't smack him around. He grabbed the front of his robes, straightened him up, and looked him right in the eye. "Listen: it's because of Rukia that I'm here. She's taking care of Inoue, so I'm speaking for her."

He sighed as he felt Ichigo and Zabimaru wait for him to speak.

"I'm gonna share something with you…

"For decades…it felt like an eternity… Rukia and I…had grown so distant from one another. So far apart that we avoided not only eye contact, but crossing each other's path.

"But the person that finally closed that distance and got us back to how we were…and the one who fixed Rukia from what she had become was you." He paused for a moment staring as Ichigo stared back at him, surprised. "It's because of Rukia and you saving her from Aizen and whatever that I told myself I would owe you one for life. I said if you were unable to push forward and it was up to me to help you do it, I'd place you on my back and carry you the entire way if I had to.

"So stop being nervous and shit…and let's go face Yhwach. Rukia'll be waiting for you with Inoue when we win and go back."

He watched Ichigo's face go into a metamorphosis from unsure to that bravado he seemed to have, and nod in understanding. He turned away from Renji, Zangetsu in hand, and again he was the fighter and Rukia's protector again. "Okay."

"Yeah…" Renji nodded, Zabimaru in hand a well. "Okay."

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _I didn't hate RenRuki as much as I've abhored IchiHime with every fiber of my very nerdy girl being, but this whole novel thing makes me so upset. I hate that a one-sided thing is being forced to be mutual. It was one of the best parts about Renji's character: that despite him having feelings for Rukia, he's made peace with the fact she doesn't feel the same and even becomes friends with the guy she likes._

 _(And listen: When you beg the guy you tried your damnedest to kill two, three weeks prior to save the girl you're in love with, and he not only does that, but tells_ _you_ _to keep her safe for_ _him_ _and you do it while that he fights everybody else who wants her dead…you lost.)_

 _(sigh) I just really thought Renji ran after Ichigo in the portal for Rukia's sake. And I still really hate that Chapter 686 happened…and now there's a novel's that *someone* is now trying to force down our throats._

 _Anyway…in re-reading the HM arc in_ _Bleach_ _, I really liked seeing Renji's relationship with Zabimaru. I like that Zabimaru just shows up and hates Zangetsu getting all the glory and spurs Renji to fight._


End file.
